be'ave as ladies when they come in the Pit! It's a pity her 'usband can't teach her better manners!"

Father-"'Im teach her! 'E knows better. 'E's got a Tartar there, 'e 'as!"

The Owner of the Hat-"Sam, are you going to set by and hear me insulted like this?"

Her Husband (turning round tremulously)-"I-I'll trouble you to drop making these personal allusions to my wife's 'at, sir. It's puffickly impossible to listen to what's going on on the stage, with all these remarks be'ind!"

Father-"Not more nor it is to see what's going on on the stage with that 'at in front! I paid 'arf-a-crown to see the Pantermime, I did; not to 'ave a view of your wife's 'at! . . . 'ere, Maria, blowed if I can stand this 'ere game any longer. Jimmy must change places again, and if he can't see, he must stand up on the seat, that's all!" (Jimmy goes back and mounts upon the seat.)

A Pit-ite Behind Jimmy (touching Jimmy's father with an umbrella)-"Will you tell your little boy to set down, please, and not to block the view like this?"

Father-"If you can indooce that lady to take off her 'at, I will, but not before. Stay where you are, Jimmy."

The Pit-itz Behind "Well, I must stand myself then, that's all. I mean to see somehow!" (He rises.)

People Behind (sternly)-"Set down there, will yer?" (He resumes his seat expostulating.)

Jimmy "Father, the man behind is a-pinching of my legs!" Father "Will you stop pinching my little boy's legs. He ain't doing you no 'arm, is he?"

The Pinching Pit-ite-"Let him sit down, then!"

Father "Let the lady take her 'at off!"

Murmurs Behind-"Order there! Set down! Put that boy down! Take off that 'at! Silence in front there! Turn 'em out! Shame! .

The Husband of the Owner of the Hat (in a whisper to his wife)—"Take off the blessed 'at, and 'ave done with it, do!"

The Owner of the Hat-"What, now? I'd sooner die in the 'at!" (An attendant is called.)

Attendant-"Order, there, gentlemen, please, unless you want to get turned out! No standing allowed on the seats; you're disturbing the performance 'ere, you know!" (Jimmy is made to sit down, and weeps silently; the hubbub subsides, and the Owner of the Hat triumphs.)

Mother"Never mind, my boy, you shall have mother's seat in a minute. I dessay, if all was known, the lady 'as reasons for keeping her 'at on, pore thing!"

Father "Ah, I never thought o' that. So she may. Very likely her 'at won't come off-not without her 'air!"

Mother "Ah, well, then we mus'n't be 'ard on her."

The Owner of the Hat (removing the obstruction)-"I 'ope you're satisfied now, I'm sure?”

Father (handsomely)—"Better late nor never, mum, and we take it kind of you. Tho why you shouldn't ha' done it at fust, I dunno; for you look a deal 'ansomer without the 'at than what you did in it-don't she Maria?”

The Owner of the Hat (mollified)-"Sam, ask the gentleman behind if his boy would like a ginger-nut." (This olive-branch is accepted; compliments pass; cordiality is restored, and the pantomime then proceeds without any further disturbance in the audience.)

HULLO

BY S. W. FOSS

W'en you see a man in wo,
Walk right up an' say "Hullo!"
Say "Hullo" an' "How d'ye do?
How's the world a-usin' you?"
Slap the fellow on the back;

Bring your hand down with a whack;
Walk right up, an' don't go slow;
Grip an' shake, an' say "Hullo!"

When big vessels meet, they say
They saloot an' sail away.
Jest the same are you an' me
Lonesome ships upon a sea;
Each one sailin' his own log,
For a port behind the fog.
Let your speakin' trumpet blow;
Lift your horn an' cry "Hullo!"

Say "Hullo!" an' "How d'ye do?"
Other folks are good as you.

W'en you leave your house of clay

Wanderin' in the far away,

W'en you travel through the strange

Country t'other side the range,

Then the souls you've cheered will know

Who ye be, an' say "Hullo."

THE DUTCHMAN'S TELEPHONE

ANONYMOUS

"I guess I haf to gif up my delephone already," said an old citizen, as he entered the office of the company with a very long face.

"Why, what's the matter now?”

"Oh! eferytings. I got dot delephone in mine house so I could shpeak mit der poys in der saloon down town, und mit

my relations in Springwells, but I haf to gif it up. I never haf so much droubles."

"How?"

"Vhell, my poy Shon, in der saloon, he rings der pell and calls me oop und says an old frent of mine vhants to see how she vorks. Dot ish all right. I say, 'Hello!' und he says, 'Come closer.' I goes closer und helloes again. Den he says, 'Shtand a little off.' I shtands a little off und yells vunce more, und he says, 'Shpeak louder.' I yells louder. I goes dot vhay for ten minutes, und den he says, 'Go to Texas, you old Dutchman!" You see?"” "Yes."

"Und den mein brudder in Springwells he rings der pell und calls me oop und says, 'How you vhas dis eafnings?' I says I vhas feeling like some colts, und he says, 'Who vhants to puy some goats?' I 'Colts-colts-colts!' und he answers, says, 'Oh! coats. I thought you said goats! Vhen I goes to ask him ef he feels petter I hear a voice crying out, 'Vhat Dutchman is dot on dis line? Den somepody answers, 'I doan' know, but I likes to punch his headt!' You see?"

"Yes."

"Vhell, somedimes my vhife vhants to shpeak mit me vhen I am down in der saloon. She rings mein pell und I says, 'Hello !' Nopody shpeaks to me. She rings again, und I says, 'Hello,' like dunder! Den der Central Office tells me to go aheadt, und den tells me holdt on, und den tells mein vhife dot I am gone avhay. I yells oudt, 'Dot ish not so,' und somepody says, 'How can I talk if dot old Dutchmans doan' keep shtill?" You see?"

"Yes."

"Und vhen I gets in bedt at night, somepody rings der pell like der house vas on fire, und vhen I shumps oud und says, 'Hello,' I hear somepody saying, 'Kaiser, doan' you vhant to puy a dog?' I vhants no dog, und vhen I tells 'em so, I hear some peoples laughing, 'Haw! haw! haw! You see?"

"Yes."

"Und so you dake it oudt, und vhen somepody likes to shpeak mit me dey shall come right avay to mein saloon. Oof my brudder ish sick he shall get better, und if somepody vhants to puy me a dog, he shall come vhere I can punch him mit a glub."

HOW BILL ADAMS WON THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO

BY G. H. SNAZELLE

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN:

Last summer I was touring in Kent, and came to a small village of probably about seven hundred inhabitants. Being a very hot day, I went into the village ale-house to get a glass of-ginger ale. There was no one in the bar, but I could hear a buzzing sound coming from an apartment marked "Tap-room." The door was slightly open, and I peeped in, and saw a crowd of yokels sitting motionless and open-mouthed listening with absorbing interest to a grizzly old man, who appeared to be relating some intensely exciting story. I went back to the bar, and knocked sharply on the counter. Presently the landlord sauntered out of the tap-room, and I mildly remarked that I had been waiting full five minutes.

"Very zorry, zur," said the landlord, "but you zee, zur, I couldn't get out of the tap-room just then. The fact is, zur, Bill Adams is in there."

"How do you mean you could not get out? Was he holding you?"

"Noa, zur," answered the landlord, and then in a tone of voice implying the most profound veneration for the person alluded to, he added, "It's Bill Adams, zur; 'ee's in the tap-room, zur!" I naturally remarked, "Well, and who is Bill Adams?"

"Whoi, 'ee doan't mean to tell me that you've never 'eerd o' Bill Adams?"

I confest I never had. Mine host favored me with a stare of undisguised astonishment and incredulity at such lamentable ignorance, and burst out-"Whoi, wherever wos you brought up, zur, in the back'oods of 'Meriky, or in the bush in Australy? Never 'eerd o' Bill Adams! Well, you do surprize me, sure-ly. Whoi, Bill Adams is the most celebratedest mon in these 'ere parts."

"Oh, indeed!" I said, "what is he celebrated for? What did he do?"